


A Good Friend

by keilexandra



Category: Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keilexandra/pseuds/keilexandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heiro, the little sister of Lady Themis, befriends Attolis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eak_a_mouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eak_a_mouse/gifts).



> Thanks to Alison for the beta. My muse deviated quite a bit from the original Yuletide prompt in the focus of this story, but I hope it will please nonetheless!

No matter what her father thought, Heiro had never intended to usurp her sister's place. Her first dance with the king had been entirely unintentional. True, she had worn her new blue silk gown--a gown that she mourned, for of course her father had taken it away afterwards--but the color both matched her eyes and the flowers of the ballroom wallpaper. Heiro was content to dance a few times with her male cousins and spend the rest of the time sitting quietly with her aunts, to watch Themis flirting shamelessly as a widow was uniquely permitted. 

Of the two of them, daughters of a blue-blooded but small-coffered baron, Themis had always been the more beautiful and thus the more admired by all. She wasn't witless, either; Heiro was perhaps more studious but not one iota more intelligent than her older sister. When they were small, Heiro had wanted to grow up to be just like Themis. 

Themis, for her part, tolerated Heiro remarkably well. Heiro had been an honored guest at both of Themis's weddings (the first slightly grander than the second), and if Themis insisted on being presented first for introductions, then Heiro was happy to be second and less noticed. 

Such perfectly logical evidence would not sway her father, however. As she shivered from the winter air and flinched silently under the measured but solid blows of his leather belt, Heiro distracted herself from the beating by recalling the wink that the king had given her as he stepped past Themis and offered Heiro his outstretched hand. She didn't at all understand the king, a Eddisian young man barely older than Themis who had apparently subjugated their iron-willed Queen by sheer foppery and folly.

That was her father's opinion, in any case. Her father had been quite insistent that Themis dress her best for the king's balls, and he was perhaps the most taken aback when the king merely asked _Heiro_ to dance. One night soon after, he had come home from his meetings with a deep furrow etched into his brow. As he stripped off his belt, he had said only one short sentence to Heiro, almost sorrowfully if not for his voice's characteristic flatness:

"You are not your sister, Heiro."

Heiro knew full well that she would never surpass, or even match, Themis's standard of combined charm and likeability. She did not need her father to beat her as a reminder for such a simple thing, but she could bear it.

However, when her father called Themis into the room as well, Heiro could not suppress an audible intake of breath. Themis was supposed to be the good one, the model daughter who always brought compliments and would surely elevate the family's standing in the next generation. Her father's brief words to Themis, as he stood waiting for her preemptive sobs to diminish, would hurt Heiro more than her sore muscles all week:

"You disappoint me. I did not think you were like Heiro."

***

It had been an honor, perhaps the greatest honor of her quiet and unexciting life, to dance with the king. He kept up a comfortable stream of--not conversation, exactly, but commentary that might accept but did not expect a response. Still, Heiro's mind raced to keep up with both the whirling figures of the dance and the king's opinions about the declining quality of contemporary literature and dramas. But Heiro could feel his careful attentiveness to her movements, the guiding pressure of his left arm and the tightened grip when she stepped out of a figure. The king's right arm and hook remained at his side, of course, but he moved it gracefully and Heiro never found herself close to bumping into the sharp point.

As the dance came to a breathless conclusion, Heiro found herself standing very close to the king as he bowed slightly and waited. Heiro gave him a deeper-than-usual curtsey. She said to the king as she arose, head bowed to hide her flush and the words slipping headlong off her tongue, "Thank you for the dance, Your Majesty. I--I am working on a novel myself that I hope will someday meet the high standard of your royal opinion."

The music master signaled a pause just then, unluckily. The king looked surprised and may have wanted to reply, but Heiro had caught sight of Themis curtseying to her partner and hurried off to make amends.

Themis wore a small pout on her face, which didn't disarray her classical profile one whit, but she was not angry with Heiro after Heiro apologized. She took offense often but never seriously and was quite easily appeased, a trait that had minimized the number of her enemies among the richer barons' daughters.

"What was the king like? Did he say anything?" Themis asked idly as she smoothed the pintucked pleats at the waist of her gown, an open-neck design in scarlet brocade whose cost had made their father wince.

Heiro blinked and said, "No, nothing of importance. He is happy to ramble." She stopped short of wincing herself at the blandness of the second statement. Really, she had liked the king's casual monologue, and even the king himself.

"I'm sorry, Themis. I couldn't say no," she apologized again. Themis smiled kindly at Heiro and waved her hand in a brush-off motion, simultaneously an acceptance and a dismissal.

As she settled down at her usual side table to watch the next dance, Heiro's eyes kept wandering back to the king. She saw his face close down at the turned head and presumably whisper of the man seated to his right. She saw, too, the king slowly move his left hand to cover the right hand of the Queen, without moving his head or shifting his expression of perfected boredom. The Queen placed no such paralysis upon herself, and Heiro saw the Queen's eyes as she looked upon her king.

There was sorrow and regret, anger and frustration, in the Queen's eyes. But there was also, Heiro saw, the same feeling that made her father's shoulders relax when her mother brought steaming mulled wine to the study on a late winter's night. In the Queen's eyes and the king's good left hand, there was love.

***

When news came of the king's attempted assassination, Heiro was embroidering a cousin's ivory trousseau sash with golden swallows and Themis was pretending to study one of their father's tomes recording noble-line genealogy. Heiro knew that Themis wasn't concentrating on the marriages and subsequent heirs of the royal Eddisian house, because Themis had already used four different excuses--like needing a drink of water from the kitchen, or her foot falling asleep--to get up and leave the room before reluctantly returning to her overstuffed armchair with the precariously balanced book.

Heiro remembered how her father came into the study and dropped his overcoat on his desk, a habit that her mother detested. He said without preamble, "Someone has stabbed the king. He is expected to live. Themis, get dressed to go."

After Themis had shrieked and left her book tumbling to the floor, Heiro set down her embroidery to hide her shaking fingers. She knew that the king was surely being treated by the best doctors in the country, and the wounds weren't fatal--but interpreting her father's cold objectivity, the king could also easily have lost another body part.

Slowly, Heiro picked up her cousin's sash and counted to sixty before her hands were steady enough to rethread her needle from gold to scarlet. She stitched meandering curls of blood-petaled flowers among the dancing swallows, bright and uncertain. When her father and Themis returned a little while later, she had almost finished one entire border.

Themis sank back into her armchair with a dramatic sigh, and Heiro didn't need to look up to know that she was pouting. "Did you see the king?" Heiro asked.

"His Majesty is not seeing any visitors," said Themis, "even though some people go past the antechamber and don't come out again for a long while." She paused and added, "Father is not pleased with me. Didn't the king choose to dance with you twice? You should go. I think he would be content if any one of the family were shown the king's favor."

"Oh, I couldn't," Heiro protested. But she was already laying aside her work. She had wanted to see the king since the moment Themis left on that same errand.

Upstairs, as she dressed and gathered her reticule, Heiro thought of the manuscript she had just finished the last week. With only a moment's hesitation, she snatched the first chapter from the half-finished fair copy and rolled it into a small bundle. She had been ill-prepared the first time for a reprise of the king's critical commentary, but since then she'd revised the beginning significantly to avoid the most common tropes found in her reading.

She was prepared, this time, to meet the king of Attolia.

***

The second time Heiro danced with the king, he omitted a greeting and said to her as they began the first steps, "That was beautifully done."

Heiro blinked. "Excuse me, Your Majesty?"

"I mean the way you tried to avoid dancing with me, in a way calculated to make me insist on doing just that. Just this." The king made a gesturing motion with his right arm as they separated.

Heiro took the time to rethink what she had done to deserve such a compliment. She had only demurred and stammered that she didn't want to take up his time. Perhaps she ought to have hinted about Themis, but Heiro didn't quite approve of Themis's or her father's methods.

When they met again, the king said, "Do you know, I heard someone describe you as artless?"

To which Heiro could only reply, "I don't know what you are talking about, Your Majesty." She couldn't say what she really thought, which was that next to Themis, any woman would appear artless.

"Neither did he," replied the king easily.

"Your Majesty--" began Heiro, hoping to change the subject.

The king lifted his left arm and led her smoothly into a turn. "Was the beating very bad, my dear?" he asked, apparently heedless of how his words might be taken.

Heiro's reaction was her first real stmble of the night, with thanks to the king for both his dancing talents and his (quite calculated) words. The king took her arm and led her to the side as soon as the figure had concluded.

"You're tired," he said solicitously. "Let me take you to a seat." Around them, dancers parted to make way for the king. "I can finish the dance with your sister."

Heiro thought, Themis would be delighted. But her hand on the king's arm betrayed her, tightening infinitesimally in its grip.

"Just a single dance, dear," said the king. "Then I promise I'll move on. I can't allow you to be beaten for casting yourself between me and the rather rapacious clutches of your sister. I do wonder why you think I am worth saving."

"Maybe because I have eyes in my head, Your Majesty," Heiro retorted. She thought perhaps it was time to live up to the king's opinon of her artful calculations.

The king appeared to be taken aback, the first time she had seen him surprised. She thought that she had indeed miscalculated, and was preparing an apology when he said, "Well, I will have to watch my step then, won't I? And you will have to point out to your father the advantages of having one of his daughters admired by the king, even if it is the wrong one. If it saves you from a beating, you may always call on me."

He bowed over Heiro's hand, allowing her to see her father approach with an even more deeply furrowed frown. The king followed her gaze.

There was not much time left. Heiro said quickly, hoping that she sounded calmer than she felt, "Your Majesty might like to dance with my friend, Lady Eunice. She's a pretty girl."

"I like pretty girls," said the king with a smile. "Who else?"

She rattled off the first few names that came to mind, finishing school friends who were gifted with charm or beauty but not both--and none had Themis's wiles to flatter the king for a greater purpose.

As her father drew closer, the king said in a very different tone of voice, "She claims she's unwell." He sounded almost like a petulant child. Even Heiro was half-fooled. "She suggests I finish the dance with her sister."

So the king and Themis finally danced together, and everyone was happy or pretending to be. Her father said with a continuing hint of annoyance, "What does he see in you, Heiro, that your sister lacks?"

Her response, Heiro thought afterward as she replayed the scene in her mind, had been perfectly scripted by the king's suggestion. "I don't know, but he said he liked my earrings."

Thanks to the merciful gods, she was wearing her least favorite earrings.

***

Slipping out of their capital apartments proved to be easier than Heiro had expected. However, getting into the king's bedchamber was nearly an impossible task. Heiro waited in line for a half hour, drawing curious looks from the barons and other noblemen, before she finally came to the head of the guardroom serving as the king's antechamber.

Heiro cleared her throat and tentatively asked the imperious-looking attendant if she might have a brief audience with the king. She had barely finished speaking when he replied, "His Majesty is not--"

"Let her in," said the king from the bedchamber.

The attendant lifted his eyebrows, but he waved Heiro toward the door. She walked forward, holding her reticule to her side, and sat down at the king's bedside.

Now that she was here, Heiro didn't quite know what to say. She said in a quiet voice, leaning slightly toward the bed, "I came to wish Your Majesty a smooth and quick recovery. My family sends their deepest sympathy for your injuries."

"I know," said the king amicably. "Your older sister came before you. Does she know you're here?"

Heiro said, "Yes. Though my father does not, yet." Feeling the sudden need to defend Themis's reputation with the king, though it didn't matter at all, she continued, "My sister suggested that I come to see you."

The king raised one eyebrow, but his expression didn't change. Heiro noticed that his face was carefully relaxed but his neck was rigid. "I see. Perhaps she has a heart, after all."

They continued like that for a time, exchanging pleasantries that would never have passed muster in a public forum or an epic poem. When the king's chin began to tighten and his neck showed no change, Heiro carefully drew the manuscript pages out of her bag.

The king said, without looking at them, "There is a convenient gap between my bed and the night table."

He shifted his left side with a small wince and took Heiro's right hand as she slid the rolled pages into the gap, pushing them as far back into the dimness as she could reach. Surprisingly, her fingers brushed a different texture of paper. She pulled out a roll of unmarked but fine letter paper and mouthed the address silently as she read it, "My dear Sophos."

"Burn that after you read it," said the king. "I'd forgotten. I do not want any evidence that I was snooping on my cousin, when next she visits me."

Heiro made to give the letter back to the king, but he turned his hand over in refusal.

"It is only a minor secret, and may keep you warm at night," said the king. "I hope your father appreciates what a good friend you are to me."

Heiro smiled at him. The king was, indeed, a good friend. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said softly with all of the gratitude she could conjure from the world.

***

Later that night, under moonlight from the sliver of open shades at the window near her bed, Heiro read the king's gift.

_My dear Sophos,_

_As always, I pray to the gods that you are well and as happy as you can be, replete at least with books. To which era and authors have you progressed in your reading? I am rereading_ Lysistrata _and find it as thought-provoking as ever. It is an emotionally accurate, if clearly dramatic, description of reacting to men's folly, if all the women of the city were somehow organized._

_But let me now arrive at the main point of this reply, which is to say: I received your latest letter today by the usual courier. I was surprised to receive it later than expected, and I worried about you. But as to its contents, I assure you that my feelings remain the same as they have been, and I deeply return your affection. Although, if you should decide to start an unnecessary war without telling me first, I may follow the same path as the women of our beloved play._

_Gods be willing, I hope that your affairs will be well-arranged in the near future and we will meet--_

_\--****--~*--*--~*--*--~*--*--**--*--~*--*--~*--**--~*--*--~*--***---~*--*--~*--*--~**---~*--*--~**---~*--*--~**---~*--*--~*--_

_With love,_  
 _Helen_

The letter had been carefully scribed in black ink, but its second paragraph was full of blotted-out words and the third spotted by indelible blobs. Heiro wondered briefly who the king's cousin might be, and who "Sophos" was. Regardless, she knew the draft-letter for what it was: a lover's missive, perhaps separated by war as in the play they were both reading.

Heiro burned the letter in her fireplace and snuggled back into her bed, smiling at the king's mischief. It was only the next morning as she turned over blearily in the morning sun that she remembered the king of Attolia was once the Thief of Eddis. And the Thief of Eddis, as Themis should have known from her reading the day before, had many cousins. But one in particular was more significant than the rest: Helen, known as Eddis.


End file.
